


Mindscape

by tropicalgothic



Category: Naruto
Genre: But like-- only slight mentions they don't really feature in here much, Day 1: Exploration, F/M, Gaara - Freeform, Naruto SciFi Week, SCIFI AU, biopolar mention, death mention, kinda trippy? Ish?, people generally have lots of problems in this fic, ptsd mention, rasa, suicidal ideations are sort of there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:33:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27836866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tropicalgothic/pseuds/tropicalgothic
Summary: Yashamaru’s thoughts run like ghosts that walk through the backdoor in his head. They barge in unexpected, and unwanted. And the medicine— the medicine was only supposed to keep them quiet for a day. One day. Instead, it ended up burying himself so deep in his own head, that Anko has to find him again and bring him back.
Relationships: Mitarashi Anko/Yashamaru
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3
Collections: Naruto Sci-fi Week!





	Mindscape

“Sorry, it’s—“ He struggled to put the key in. The wrong key. Struggled to keep the crying baby from squirming in his arms. There was a large tote bag full of grocery items, a bruised apple peeking out from the top. He smiled at her, still trying to jam in the wrong key. “Give me a minute. I’m almost there.”

Anko looked at the man in front of her, at the memory in front of her. 

No, not a memory. But a shadow of one.

“You’re not my Yashamaru.”

It stopped wiggling the door knob. The baby was still crying.

“I’m sorry— I can’t seem to get it in,” it smiled at her. That sort of sheepish smile Yashamaru got when he knows he’s in for a scolding.

But that wasn’t how that night went.

Anko held her supplies tightly and turned her gaze to the corridor that continued into the darkness. _Keep going. I need to find him._ She didn’t think the mirages would be that easy to ignore it— but she knew Yashamaru. 

And she knew that evening like the back of her hand. He had dropped the apple when he climbed up the stairs, and it rolled all the way down her corridor like a soft hello. _Hey, you dropped your produce— you okay?_ Yashamaru had all the bad hours of that day streaming down his cheeks, and the little smudge of baby barf on the white coat he forgot to take off. _Sorry it’s—_ the twist of his lips, trying not to break down in front of a stranger. _I’m fine— I’m so sorry for the noise—_

“You’re leaving me,” it whispered with the all too familiar crack in his voice.

Anko stopped— her weight still in between a stride. “That’s low,” she hissed, holding her supplies tightly and grasping for the shape of a knife.

“But it’s true, isn’t it?”

 _Stay focused._ An echo of an earlier conversation rang in her ears. _You cannot get lost down there. If you enter the wrong room, we would lose both of you…_

_I won’t get lost. I’ll bring him back._

Anko continued forward and unto the next plane of Yashamaru’s mindscape.

x.X.x

There was so much static in this area. It crawled up Anko’s arms, writhed beneath her skin, and settled heavy as a heap of bricks on her chest. Like descending into water she could not see. The feeling came in cycles— of an immense sadness, and then nothing, but hardly ever enough for a gasp of air.

And Anko was walking forward without a map, turning away from all the mirages that pretended to be him. Grasping the knife.

 _It’s a chip_ The doctor explained to her as he strapped her on the table, placing a small thumb drive on her hand. The regulator of her IV was still locked, but the medicine that would send her on this journey just a drips away. _An exit— and you can only use it once. But this is your escape, and if the mirages—-_

But they won’t. Anko had promised Gaara that she would bring his uncle back— and she knew Yashamaru wanted to come out too. She could tell. She could feel him leaving her a trail of breadcrumbs to follow.

Anko passed by a little radio, tuned into the station Yashamaru liked to put on for baby Gaara before he left for the evening shift.

_Are you sure? It’s going to be a 12 hour shift and I don’t want to impose on you._

_Let me think about that,_ Anko had laughed and crunched on the Doritos he brought out for her to emphasize the perks of keeping watch over a relatively well-behaved child for good money while she did her homework. Her upstairs neighbor was nice enough. His little nephew was cute too. The radio-drama playing quietly in the background. _If you stop by Chichi’s and get me dango, then you may impose._

He got her daifuku instead, on account of a misunderstanding with the sales lady. And Anko learned that she liked the taste of strawberries.

The sounds of the radio grew fainter and fainter, as she passed through the field of strawberries. There was a basket of them, freshly picked, on the side of the lonely road— the sign read ‘Strawberries that taste like a first kiss.’

 _Is that your way of asking for something, Yashamaru?_ She had been quite forward, and he had been too embarrassed to string a coherent reply. He did not want to be improper, but Anko has grown fond of seeing Yasha squirm beneath the heat of the question. And she has grown especially fond of his smile.

**Ting! Ting! Ting**

Anko blinked and turned to where the sound started— on her right, now echoing overhead. To the side of the road was Gaara’s little toy car, blinking red and blue lights, going **Ting! Ting! Ting!**

But the toy was kicked away by someone running— And suddenly she was no longer in a dirt road. Several people were running, pushing a stretcher, screaming for everyone to “Move! Get the elevators!” Yashamaru was on top of the stretcher, pushing and pumping on the chest of a figure so small that Anko didn’t notice her.

A monitor going **Ting! Ting! Ting!**

“They’re still on the sixth floor!"

Anko could hear the drumming of her heart— faster and faster until it got stuck at her throat and the whole building beat.

“Sixth?!” The doctors— or nurses— two of them were banging on the elevator doors. **Badump—- badump—badump-badumpbadumpbadump**

“Yasha— You good there until we get to the OR?” someone asked and Yasha did not answer. Did not stop being this little girl’s heart. Anko’s vision distorted, rounded on the sides and fuzzy and not at the same time.

“Was this what you felt?” Anko whispered to herself.

“Some bad codes stay with you for a while, I think?”

Anko did not want to look at the mirage that appeared beside her. She did not need to— she knew the look in his eyes when he’s somewhere else. It took a while to wrestle the toy from Gaara. It had been a favorite because of the noise it made. And even then, Yashamaru would have a hard time following conversations. He would jump at the slightest thing. A text message. Something being dropped. A hand on his shoulder.

 _It’s been years but I always go back to that one. Like it’s happening all over again._ She listened to him talk between sips of the chai he often made for her whenever she felt lower than dirt, wondering if it helped him the way it helped her. Warm in the belly, sweet on her tongue.

“You told me…” Anko found herself replying, unsure of whether she wanted an answer or not. _You made this journey for answers though. So ask._ Her heart still racing. “You told me you’d see someone for that. We both would get help.”

The mirage was quiet for a while and Anko almost turned to look.

“I’m drowning,” it said. Then, the ground beneath her turned to water.

Anko sank.

Deeper and deeper into the waters until the waves felt like hands pulling her down. Ropes around her. Clinging to her arms. Her legs. She thrashed. Gripping her supplies and the knife— _I won’t get lost. I’ll bring him back._

And then air.

Anko tumbled unto the cold white tiles. Flickering fluorescent lights shone overhead. Uncapped needles rolled dangerously close to where she stood. Her head spun between nightmares and sedatives. Something churned in her stomach.

The slope of her neck started to burn.

 _Can you come get me? Please? I’m sorry— I didn’t know who else to call._

_Anko, are you hurt?_

_I’m— I— don’t know. I don’t know._

_Where are you?_

“Anko?”

She took out the sharpened knife and pointed it to the mirage before her. “If you don’t stop lying to me, I’ll kill you where you stand.”

“I’m not lying, I swear,” it said, sounding so much like him. But Anko knew— and she knew it would try to trick her into going some place. The wrong room that would prevent her from coming back too.

But that evening, it was the car and the quiet ride home--- a deafening silence when Yasha refused to ask questions and just laid her in his own bed. And Anko wondered when he’d realize what happened.

“I knew,” it said, sitting in front of Anko so they were at eye level. “I had an inkling before— but I wasn’t sure; but I should have known. I could have helped---“

“You keep doing that, Yasha,” Anko said, her grip on the knife faltering. And suddenly she was as cold and alone as the day her sensei deemed the experiment a failure. “You know that type of self-flagellation is untrue. And if it were someone else-- when it was me— you were…”

She looked up and Yashamaru smiled. “I loved you,” it— he— the mirage said, and Anko could feel herself falling apart in slow motion. “I think I did even then— You remember when we let Gaara stay up late cuz we were watching Birdcage.”

“And he would laugh every time you pretended to trip and—“

_It’s da shoes!_

The echo of Gaara laughing filled the room, and the uncapped syringes turned into the too many pens Anko bought.

“I don’t wear the shoes because they—“ Yashamaru said it with an exaggeratedly low voice, and Gaara was already laughing before the punchline— “make me fall.”

Anko found herself laughing too, even as a tear trickled down her face. “Are you sure it’s not the pens?” There were about a hundred of them, spilled across the floor. The way that episode of late night work and little sleep spilled into racing thoughts and impulse buying. Coming down from the episode, Anko thought she fucked up beyond repair but—

“It’s definitely da shoes.”

And this was definitely the moment Anko realized she wanted this. “I still want it.”

Yashamaru— the mirage— the part of him that twisted the good around its axis until he drowned in his worst thoughts— He smiled and held her hand. “You still want it,” he repeated. “You still want… me.”

Sunlight flooded the room, and Anko could hear the waves lapping at the sands nearby. _I found you._ She stood up and made her way to—

“Wait,” the mirage ran up to her, holding a handful of colorful pens. “I think it’s a good memory.”

A good memory. Anko took the pens, and then his hand. The confusion in his face melted into something softer when she wrote ‘I still want you’ on his palm. “Remember that.”

Then Anko opened the door and—

“Anko!” There warm arms around her, and she melted into his touch. “Love of my life. You’re—“

“Bringing your bony butt back home.”

Yashamaru pulled back to pressed his forehead against hers. 

She could hear the smile in his laugh— and it was real, and it was here and— “I missed this.”

“I missed you.”

Anko took a step back, wiping the tears out of her eyes. “I got these for you.” They settled down on the sands, and she opened her bag of supplies. From it, she pulled out an apple, bruised on the side where it tumbled down like a soft hello. The radio-drama playing quietly in the background. There is a set of daifuku, and strawberries that tasted like a first kiss. She placed a cup of chai at his feet, warm in the belly and sweet on the lips.

Then, she took out a glitter pen and wrote her name at the back of Yashamaru’s hand. “So you’ll know the way to me. And these,” Anko pushed the items closer towards him, “will keep you warm until you’ve lit up the other parts of your head.” She brushed the hair from his face. “Do you remember what happened?”

“Just the heavy weight on my chest,” he looked down. “Like descending into water I could not see.”

Anko nodded her head. She took the knife out of the bag, ready to cut through this plane of Yasha’s mindscape. “The cycles— of an immense sadness, and then nothing. But we’ll swim high enough for air this time and you’ll—“

_Wake up._

x.X.x

Anko blinked her eyes open, and she was back in her body. The white walls and fluorescent lights of the hospital blinded her for a split second.

“You’re awake.”

She turned to the voice. “Rasa? When did you come to visit?”

Rasa sat on the nearby chair, peeling and cutting up apples. “Third day.” He let a few seconds flow before adding, “Kuri is at home today, but your sister will switch with me tomorrow.”

“How long was I out?” She rose from the bed and her stiff joints creaked in protest.

“Just two days,” Rasa said, and then handed her the plate of freshly cut apples. “But you should go check on—“

“Yasha?” Anko hurried out of bed, carrying her stiff joints and the plate of apples. And then stopping right at the adjoining door— her throat felt dry, and the thought of seeing a barely recognizable body wrapped in tubes and lines got stuck at her throat.

“He’s awake,” Rasa urged her gently. “He asked for you the moment he could speak again.”

Anko nodded her head, steeled herself, opened the door and—

“Love of my life.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yasha and Anko have been a long time rare pair ship I have with [spycaptain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spycaptain) and she has a bit more of them if you want to check them out. I can't really contain my love of these two in just oneshot, or how much I see the two of them together. But this was an attempt <3 At piecing together several headcanons I have of the two of them.
> 
> One of those headcanons included watching the Birdcage with little Gaara. It's an old comedy with one particular Guatemalan housekeeper who is unable to walk properly unless he is barefoot-- hence the it's da shoes reference.


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